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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30089832">But What Is Grief?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odd_I/pseuds/Odd_I'>Odd_I</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, tony stark is dead in this fic he is not alive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:27:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30089832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odd_I/pseuds/Odd_I</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In front of him, staring directly at him was a wall full of Iron Man drawings. Some were the colouring sheets Mr. Davis had provided, others weren’t. </p><p>Peter had never seen so many photos of Mr. Stark in one place. </p><p>It broke his heart.</p><p>— OR — </p><p>Peter deals with his grief of losing Mr. Stark in a world where he can't forget him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michelle Jones &amp; Peter Parker, Ned Leeds &amp; Peter Parker, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>But What Is Grief?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re going to be fine, sweetheart?” Aunt May was rubbing a hand up and down his back and he sat up in his bed, “It’s not too late. We can just switch, do homeschooling for a year. Or there are online classes you can take.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter took a shaky breath in. Each breath seemed to burn his lungs, and it felt so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> hard to breathe, but he knew he had to take slow, and deep breaths. Just like Mr. Stark had instructed him to, just a few months ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or. Well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was still hard to get used to that. To realizing that he had been— that he was— and now that Mr. Stark was… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine, May,” Peter breathed, “I think I really need to be surrounded by friends… and not worry about… the end of the world for a bit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at him for a few moments, as if she was trying to decide whether or not she believed him, before nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust you,” she finally said, “But if you feel like you need to come home just call me. I’ll keep my phone on me at the hospital, and I’ll answer. I promise. And if I don’t, call Happy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter nodded. His eyes felt heavy, but he still couldn’t get in a breath properly. His whole body was still shaking in leftover adrenaline from his dream. His nightmare of turning to dust. His </span>
  <em>
    <span>memory</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Whatever it was called. His eyes drifted over to the clock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>3:42 AM. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t have to be awake for another two and a half hours, three to three and a half if he decided to swing his way to school, and if he skipped breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry I woke you, May,” Peter sighed and leaned his head onto her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing to be sorry for sweetheart, I’d be waking up in an hour anyway,” she gave him a squeeze, “Now try to get some more sleep. I’ll wake you when I’m leaving for work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter nodded and watched as she left his room. She kept the door open, something he’d been doing ever since he… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ever since. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coming back had brought back some old trauma and some new. But one of the most prominent things was his fear of enclosed spaces. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Help me! Help me, please! I’m stuck!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The warehouse haunted his dreams still, and it terrified him when he felt trapped in places. Somehow, being dusted away a few— </span>
  <em>
    <span>five years </span>
  </em>
  <span>ago contributed to that fear. Sure it happened out in the open spaces of Titan, but he’d never felt more trapped than when he died in Mr. Stark’s arms. Keeping his door open at night, and at all times really, was just one way to avoid that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God he just hoped his classes kept the doors open. Or the windows open. Or something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having a panic attack in the middle of the class didn’t sound like fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Peter made his way back under the covers and attempted to get another couple of hours of sleep. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>True to her world, May popped back into Peter’s room at 6 AM, right when she was leaving for work. She placed a plate of toast with peanut butter on his nightside table, as well as a cup of coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter waved her goodbye, but couldn’t find it in himself to say anything to her. He was so goddamn tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Waking up in the middle of the night due to nightmares, or memories, or whatever, wasn’t unusual. Not by a longshot. Even before Thanos, before Mr. Stark— before he died, Peter would have nightmares and restless nights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just that now they happened a lot more often. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And today was the first day of 11th grade. Well… the </span>
  <em>
    <span>second</span>
  </em>
  <span> first day of 11th grade, but really. It was the same thing. And looking at the time, Peter already knew he was running late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Classes started at 7:15 AM, and it took roughly 45 minutes by subway to get there from his apartment if he was lucky. Usually, it was closer to an hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now it was already 6:05. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet Peter couldn’t really find it in himself to care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being late for school seemed so… small, in the grand scheme of things now. How was he supposed to care? Still, he was a top student, and he was on a scholarship, so he had to keep his grades up. The school had already been kind enough to excuse his absences and tardiness in the years before, he didn’t really want to push it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, instead of laying in bed and wallowing in self-pity for another hour or so like he wanted to, Peter got up, took a sip of his coffee, and then proceeded to get ready. It was early September, so it wasn’t quite cold in New York yet, but Peter still wanted the comfort of a hoodie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The comfort of </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> hoodie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had taken it one night after getting oil on his white t-shirt in the lab. Mr. Stark had quickly given Peter something else to wear while they put his shirt in the wash. That “something else” was Mr. Stark’s MIT sweater. It was a tad too big for Peter, especially considering it was oversized on Mr. Stark, but that just made it all the more comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter had promised, had sworn, that he would give it back to Mr. Stark after he had gotten home and had a chance to wash it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was two days before Thanos. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter never got the opportunity to give the sweater back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He even tried to, at the funeral, but Pepper had refused with tears in her eyes. Had said that Mr. Stark would’ve wanted him to keep it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter wasn’t sure how true that was, but he kept it nonetheless. It was the last thing Mr. Stark gave him, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first couple weeks after Mr. Stark’s snap, Peter had still been able to smell the motor oil and coffee on the sweater. How that scent lasted five years? He really didn’t know. He guessed maybe it was from being packed in an airtight box for so long. Or maybe it was just his imagination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either way, Peter refused to wash it no matter how often he wore it. It smelled like Mr. Stark and God. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Peter missed Mr. Stark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed working in the lab with the man, and turning a late-night into a movie night, and having little banters. He even missed the man getting mad at him, believe it or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But one day, maybe three weeks after Mr. Stark’s snap, Peter spilled something on the sweater. He couldn’t remember exactly what he had spilled, that part was a blur, but he did remember breaking down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been inconsolable for what was at least half an hour but felt more like days. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from falling on the ground and just sobbing. He had ruined the last thing Mr. Stark gave him because </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he did. Stupid Parker Luck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although at this point it wasn’t Parker Luck. It was a Peter problem. Peter was the problem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>May had been quick to react though, and she had gently taken the sweater off him and washed it. It got rid of the scent of the lab and Mr. Stark, and that hurt, but it also got rid of the stain, and that was the most important thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would’ve had to have been washed eventually, anyways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the sweater still remained one of Peter’s favourite comfort items, along with one of Ben’s old watches that didn’t work anymore. He never took off that watch, and he rarely took off the sweater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So of course, Peter wore Mr. Stark’s MIT sweater to the first day of school. He didn’t care if it would make him too warm in the day, all he cared about was that it would provide him comfort and safety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was all that mattered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he was dressed, Peter grabbed his toast, shoved it in his mouth, and made his way out to the subway. It was 6:15 AM, so he was either going to be barely on time or just a few minutes late. He could deal with that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surely the teachers would be forgiving? New York was still recovering from the Snap, things were still down, and people were still trying to piece their lives back together. No one was left untouched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once on the subway, Peter felt his anxiety start to rise again. It was crowded, and underground, and loud. His earphones didn’t do enough, they didn’t block out enough noise. Just before Thanos he and Mr. Stark had started working on a special pair of noise-canceling headphones specifically for these types of situations, but they never got past the drawing board. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because days later Peter died in Mr. Stark’s arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Mr. Stark died in front of Peter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Peter’s whole world collapsed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he would be able to get the schematics from Pepper. He was sure they were still around somewhere. Maybe. Maybe not. Nothing was for certain anymore. But it was worth a shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But for now, his shitty earphones would have to make do. He quickly turned up the volume until he couldn’t anymore, and shut his eyes in an attempt to pretend he was stuck on a packed subway. He must have dozed off, at some point, because the next thing he knew he was waking up as people shuffled their way out of the subway doors. With a quick glance up, Peter realized they were already at his stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stumbling a little, Peter grabbed his bag and ran out of the doors, narrowly escaping them closing on him, and made his way to his school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Absentmindedly Peter looked down to check his watch, before remembering that, like always, it was broken. So he took out his phone instead to check the time, ignoring the messages he saw he had from Ned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>7:05 AM. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ok, ok that was fine. If he ran fast he’d make it to school just on time. He nearly tripped up the stairs </span>
  <em>
    <span>twice</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he somehow made his way through the doors just as the bell rang. He still had to get to his locker, shove his bag away and grab the correct textbook and notebook, so by the time Peter entered his math class he was in fact just a couple of minutes late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Parker,” Mrs. Ryans gave him a sharp look, “I hope this won’t become a trend throughout the year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No ma’am, I’m sorry. I missed the subway,” he lied. Why the fuck did he lie? Everyone knew he was bad at lying. But it was too late to go back now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His teacher raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying his lie, but waved her hand in dismissal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just take a seat. I just started explaining what we’ll be doing for today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter nodded and scrambled over to the empty seat next to Ned who immediately gave him a look. Peter wordlessly shrugged, hoping Ned would understand that he’d explain it all at lunch. Ned knew about his nightmares, and stress, and anxiety, and all that fun stuff, because of course, he did. Ned was his best friend, and Peter always told Ned everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, almost everything, anyways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know we’ve all had a difficult few months,” Mrs. Ryan began speaking to the class, “And I know you’re all still adjusting to life as it is now, whether you’ve been here for the last five years, or you just came back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few of the students in the class cringed as if they were just forced to remember their own death. And really, they were. Peter tried to hide his own cringe. Adjusting seemed like such a light way to put it, but he supposed he was going through a bit more than the average teen. Not everyone could feel themselves die, or feel themselves be put back together after all. And very few people had to fight in a war immediately after being brought back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Others lost people though. He knew that Ned lost his older sister. Apparently, she had been involved in a hit and run two years ago. She was just about 21. MJ’s cousin had gotten into a freak bus crash right when everyone blipped back. Some of Flash’s best friends weren’t dusted, so they were a whole five years older now, and didn’t seem to want to hang out with the boy all that much. Betty even lost her mom, who had succumbed to cancer just a couple of months before Mr. Stark brought everyone back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Compared to that Peter didn’t have much to complain about. He still had Aunt May. She had blipped too, so she was just the same as he remembered her. Their apartment had been taken over by a new family, but Pepper helped them find a new one so it wasn’t very stressful. All of his friends had blipped too, so he still got to hang out with Ned and MJ. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he lost, really, was Mr. Stark. And he and Mr. Stark weren’t even really </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>close anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nothing compared to other people. Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Mrs. Ryans continued, “We’re going to spend this week off pretty easy. I know I’m not in the right space to get into equations and all that, and I’m sure you’re not either. So, instead, I’d like it if we all chatted for a little while. Maybe some introductions are in order?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter felt like crying right then and there. He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to chat or introduce himself. Sure, he didn’t recognize a little more than half the faces in his class, but that was ok! He never talked to everyone in his classes anyways. He didn’t need to know them all. As long as he had Ned and MJ he was fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll start.” Mrs. Ryans said, “I’m Mrs. Ryans, for those who didn’t know. I started at midtown just a few months before the blip, so I haven’t had the chance to meet some of you yet. I didn’t blip, but my daughter did. And because of that, I’ll forever be grateful for the Avengers bringing her back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave a look to Betty, who was sitting in the front row, and then the class introductions began. Peter was barely paying attention to what people were saying. He already knew who blipped and who didn’t. He could tell by their faces. He didn’t want to hear about how the Avengers saved everyone, or how people got their families back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Morgan was never going to get her dad back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Peter had lost another father figure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the more he thought about it the more vivid the image of Mr. Stark dying in front of him became. And God. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Why couldn’t that be one of his memories that faded into the back of his head? Why did he have to forget May’s phone number, but remember Mr. Stark’s death? Why did he have to remember what it sounded like when Mr. Stark’s heart stopped, and why did he have to remember everything about that day? Why did—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Parker?” his head snapped up as Mrs. Ryans called out his name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone was staring at him. He must’ve completely blanked out and not even realized that it was his turn to go. Ned gave him a look, and a nudge, and Peter finally realized that he actually had to talk. He couldn’t sit here mulling in his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, I’m Peter. Parker. I uh, I was one of the ones who blipped. My Aunt did too,” he said, “And uh, ya. I guess that’s it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What else was he supposed to say? That he had blipped on an alien planet? Or that he had come back and immediately gone into battle? That he had lost someone, but that that person wasn’t related to him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were whispers around the class, most saying that he was lucky. Lucky that everyone he knew blipped. He even caught Flash rolling his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pretended to ignore it all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Ryans gave him a look up and down, and she seemed to be wondering if she should press him for more or not. Thankfully, though, Ned came to his rescue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m Ned Leeds, and I blipped too. My mom did too, but the rest of my family didn’t. Coming back was weird, ‘cause my family moved into a different apartment building, but I didn’t know that. So I went back to our old one and there were a bunch of strangers there. But they were super nice, and they helped me find my family.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter shot Ned a grateful look, and his friend smiled back at him. God, he was so happy that Ned blipped too. Maybe it was a selfish thought, but he couldn’t help it. It was so much better than being completely alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the introductions only took another ten or so minutes. Peter tried to listen, he really did. But his mind kept wandering. Maybe he really shouldn’t have come to school today. If he couldn’t even listen to his classmates introduce themselves how was he supposed to get through all of his classes? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about more than introductions in this class, because right as the last person, Flash, finished his introduction, the bell rang. Peter quickly grabbed his bag and Ned and shot out of the class before Mrs. Ryans could say anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, are you ok?” Ned asked when they got to their lockers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily they were still beside each other. Peter had the faintest feeling that the school did that on purpose because it seemed like any friend group who had more than one person blip was beside each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was appreciated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just tired,” Peter sighed, “I keep having these nightmares, y’know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you thought of talking to someone about it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. May is already struggling as is. She got fewer hours at the hospital for the first month or so because her position had been filled. I don’t wanna add the extra burden of therapy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure Pepper would help out if you asked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter shook his head. “Mrs. Pott— Mrs. Stark has already done enough. I don’t wanna be a burden.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter, you’re not—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just <em>drop it</em>, Ned.” Peter didn’t mean to snap. He really didn’t. But he was tired of questions, and he was tired of thinking about how much time he had missed with Mr. Stark. And he was tired of thinking about the blip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, sorry dude,” but God bless Ned. He was never angry or offended by anything, “Hey. Wanna come over tonight? We can watch Star Wars!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter smiled at that and wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “You’re the best? You know that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya, ya. I know. I wouldn’t be your guy in the chair otherwise. Now let's get to physics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter nodded and shot May a quick text to let her know he’d be out late that night. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The rest of the day was pretty much the same. Every teacher seemed to be at a loss of what to say and what to do in their classes, and Peter swore he had never introduced himself so many times in one day. It was becoming common knowledge that everyone had lost </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whether it was just 5 years with friends and family, or if someone in their life had actually died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone except Peter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that was an exaggeration, probably. There were definitely other people who had their entire family and friends blip, it was just far and few between. Enough that it was noticeable. People whispered, and stared at him, and Peter just pretended to not notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because sure, he didn’t really lose anyone. Mr. Stark died, but they weren’t even that close, right? But even so, his heart hurt, and all the discussion of the blip, and the sacrifice of the Avengers… it just made everything so much worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The worst class, by far, was his last period. Art. Why did he have to take art in a STEM school? He had no idea. MJ said it was good for creating well-rounded students, and to get everyone out of their minds for a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter was bitter because he sucked at art. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teacher, Mr. Davis, thankfully skipped introductions. He must have heard that every teacher in the school was forcing everyone to introduce himself. But instead, he had something much, much worse planned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Art is about expressing yourself. You don’t need to be talented, or even skilled, to do art. You just need to put down your emotions,” he explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was great. Peter was great at emotions. He definitely did not create an entirely different persona to deal with grief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nope. Not him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter found himself giving Ned a look, and his friend simply shrugged in return. Neither one of them wanted to be here, and based on the faces most of his classmates were making, neither did they. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>MJ looked fairly excited though, so that was cool. She never outwardly showed excitement like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I know we’ve all had a long day of talking about loss and adjustment, so I’d like it if we all drew one of the Avengers, in thanks. We don’t need to worry about feelings of grief, or feeling of loss right now, just be thankful. For those of you who don’t feel confident in your ability to draw a person, I have some Iron Man colouring sheets up at the front.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a beat of silence, and Mr. Davis seemed to realize that no one was all that excited about drawing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This won’t be graded, don’t worry. I’ll just be posting them up around our class,” he said, “And feel free to move seats and desks so you can sit with your friends. This is just supposed to be a fun class, for today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the class seemed to be fairly excited about that. Which was fair, of course. No one wanted to be graded on their ability to draw an Avenger, but this also gave everyone the excuse to just relax for an entire period. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter, though, wasn’t too keen on this whole exercise. He was actually wondering if there was a way for him to skip out of this. He really didn’t want to spend the rest of the already awful day drawing his friends and watching his classmates draw Mr. Stark. His… whatever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn’t sound like his idea of fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’re you gonna draw, Peter?” Ned shoved his desk next to his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunno. Spidey maybe?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ned furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. “I’m gonna colour Iron Man,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t wanna try drawing something?” MJ piped up, already shoving her desk next to Peter and Ned’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, don’t feel like embarrassing myself today,” Ned shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter watched as his friend got up and went to the front of the class to grab one of the sheets. God, he really just wanted to sleep right now. Somehow this was so much worse than every previous class. At least before it was just one person talking at a time, and Peter could completely zone out and not miss anything. Now, though, everyone was talking to each other excitedly, and the noise was just starting to get to be too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He plopped his head down on his desk and wrapped his arms around his head in an attempt to cover his ears. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t want to be here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, dork, you ok?” MJ lightly touched his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya,” Peter mumbled, “Just tired.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted his head up from the desk and gently massaged his ears. If it got too bad he’d just slip on a pair of headphones. It would be fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was fine. He doodled little stick figure Spider-Man drawings, and MJ drew Nat, and Ned drew Iron Man. Peter kept his eyes on his desk for the most part of the class, just up until Mr. Davis spoke again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, the class is over in five minutes. I’d like it if you all pinned your drawing to the nearest wall. Or, if you’d like, you can just place it on my desk so I know you did one,” he said, and Peter found himself resisting the urge to roll his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed his page of shitty stick figures and went to pin it up on the back wall, where hopefully it would never be seen. But he froze in his tracks as soon as he stood up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In front of him, staring directly at him was a wall full of Iron Man drawings. Some were the colouring sheets Mr. Davis had provided, others weren’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter had never seen so many photos of Mr. Stark in one place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It broke his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt tears spring to his eyes and felt his body begin to shake. He clenched his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to ignore the way his heart was stuttering in his chest, and the way his breath was getting caught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t break down here. Not now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, instead, Peter grabbed his bag, and his drawing, and went up to the teacher before placing the drawing on the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I— I uh, I need to go to the bathroom, is it ok if I leave early,” he tried to keep his voice from shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could tell that Ned and MJ were staring at him, but hopefully, Ned understood that Peter couldn’t… couldn’t face Mr. Stark like this. Not now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Peter,” Mr. Davis nodded. And ya, art teachers always were the coolest and the nicest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rushed down the hall, only to find his way into the bathroom to splash water on his face. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t stop the tears from coming to his eyes, and he could hardly breathe. His lungs burned with every breath, and his body shook with every thought. Mr. Stark’s face haunted his mind, and the wall of Iron Man drawings ignited a fire. All he could think of was the last days Peter had seen Mr. Stark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face when Peter was dusting away. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t wanna go, sir. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His face when they hugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, this is nice. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And his face when he… when he died. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We won, Mr. Stark. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But he barely knew Mr. Stark. They only knew each other for just under two years before… before it all. And even then, they hadn’t gotten close until </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Vulture incident. He shouldn’t be as worked up as he was.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>And yet all he could think about was when Mr. Stark told Peter to come by the lab more often, or that one time he, Mr. Stark, and Pepper all went out for ice cream. Or even that time Aunt May had invited Mr. Stark over, claiming that she “needed to get to know the man better”, only to literally cause a fire in the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, they had only been close for a short while, but Peter wouldn’t have traded it for anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he missed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed their movie nights, and their bickering, and their failed experiments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hell, he even missed being lectured by Mr. Stark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed the wa—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell rang loudly, chasing Peter out of his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no time for this. He still had an AcaDec meet before he could go wallow in self-pity. With another splash of water against his face and one last deep breath, Peter made his way to the cafetorium for practice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just an hour. He just had to get through one more hour and then he could go to Ned’s place, and forget the world existed for a while. Then he’d go home, curl up in bed, and hopefully fade into a peaceful nothingness. Hopefully no more nightmares.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just had to stop thinking about Mr. Stark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, as Peter made his way to the cafetorium he found himself unable to stop. He kept thinking about that time with the Vulture, or when Mr. Stark had first approached him. He’d think of everything they’d done together, and everything he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wished</span>
  </em>
  <span> he done with Mr. Stark, or told Mr. Stark. The only thing he refused to think of was Titan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the final battle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t need that right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, dude, are you ok?” Ned was at his side the instant he walked into practice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya, ya,” Peter mumbled, “Just a rough night. Still overtired, I guess.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His body still felt… jittery, for lack of better words, and his breaths were coming out shallow and shaky. He was pretty sure his eyes were still red from crying, and that it was definitely noticeable based on how his teammates were looking at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flash gave him a glare and went back to chatting with a few others. They weren’t his regular crew. They all blipped. But it seemed like Flash had no trouble in making friends. He could hear his name on their tongues, but he refused to listen further. He didn’t need another reminder of how he was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>lucky </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he didn’t lose anyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just ignore them. That was all he had to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took their seats beside MJ and shared whispers about their plans for that night. They’d even invited MJ, even though they expected her to say no. But, to their surprise, she had offered a smile and nodded. Their plan was to all walk back to Ned’s immediately after practice and pick up Delmar’s on the way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom said you guys are free to stay for dinner if you want,” Ned said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya, that sounds goo—” Peter had begun to say, only to be interrupted by Flash walking into his line of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I just don’t get it, Parker,” Flash sneered, “You’ve been acting mopey and sad all day, but out of everyone don’t you have it the best?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flash, it’s been a long day for everyone, just go sit and wait for Mr. Harrington,” MJ said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I wanna know. What right do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to act like this, huh Peter? Everyone lost someone, but Perfect Peter Parker gets to keep his life intact. Don’t you guys get annoyed with him acting so down when he literally has </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were sounds of muffled agreement throughout the room. Peter knew that was how people felt, and yet it hurt even more to be confronted with that knowledge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did lose someone,” Peter found himself saying, and surprising himself because of it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he couldn’t get Mr. Stark off his mind. He’d have nightmares about hearing the man’s heart stop. Nightmares about being dusted away in his arms. Nightmares about him taking away his suit for not living up to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everywhere he went he had to face documentaries, murals, paintings, photos, and so on of Mr. Stark, and yet even though he saw him more now than ever before, he’d never been so alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Your precious Stark Internship?” Flash laughed, “Give it up Penis, no one believed you, and no one’s going to feel bad for you. You’re just upset that the attention isn’t all on you anymore, because now </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone has lost someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter bit his lip. He didn’t know what to say to Flash. He was right, wasn’t he? He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>lose anyone. Not like how everyone else lost friends and family. He just lost Mr. Stark. But they weren’t family. They were barely friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, he had good memories of them together, and he lo— </span>
  <em>
    <span>cared for </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mr. Stark. But that wasn’t the same as losing a parent, or a friend, or a sibling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though the hole that was in his chest now felt awfully similar to the one Ben left behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just shut up Flash,” Ned said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lost </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but you’ve been acting like you lost the whole world all day Penis. Suck it the fuck up,” Flash huffed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And wow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Stark really </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> his world for a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered watching his “I Am Iron Man” press conference on T.V. when he was just a kid. He remembered touring OsCorp and wishing it was SI. He remembered trying to replicate the Arc Reactor when he was 12, only to fail, and have Mr. Stark show him the schematic in his lab years later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Stark was there for him from the beginning of Spider-Man days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And ultimately, Mr. Stark was there for him until his end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a sense, he did lose his whole world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I did,” Peter nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. I— he— I watched him die. And I think maybe my world died with him, but now he’s everywhere” Peter didn’t even know what he was saying anymore, he didn’t register the tears falling down his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This may have been the first time he had cried since Mr. Stark’s death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been bottling everything up and having nightmares and sleepless nights, but he hadn’t ever let himself cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because who was he to Mr. Stark? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who was Mr. Stark to him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure exactly what happened next, but it felt as though dams had been broken down, and all he could do was shake and cry. He was vaguely aware of MJ telling Flash to leave, and of someone guiding him away from the watching crowd, and vaguely aware of the words “I miss him” pouring out of his mouth over, and over, and over again. But nothing was really sticking. Everything was a blur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter,” MJ’s voice broke through, “Peter listen to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was rubbing his back, and someone else’s hand was on his shoulder. It grounded him in a way he didn’t think anyone would ever be able to again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a way, only May, Ben and Mr. Stark could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This grief you’re feeling? It’s just all the love you have for him building up,” MJ whispered, “It’s not a bad thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cried for like two weeks after finding out about my sister,” Ned was on his other side. He was the one rubbing his back, “It just means you love him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t, though, I—I,” Peter’s voice cracked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t be grieving like this if you didn’t,” MJ spoke softly, as though not to frighten him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I— I care for him, but I… we… he…” he trailed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could he put it into words? That Mr. Stark and he were close, but that they never spoke about it? That they had movie nights and bonding times but never told each other how they felt? That Peter considered him like a second uncle or a third father figure, but that he never— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told him. I never told him,” Peter sobbed, “I never told him I loved him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, Pete,” Ned gave him a squeeze, “He knew. I was there when you baked him a cake for his birthday. Or that time when you messed with the suit and nearly gave him a heart attack. I saw the look in his eyes. He knew.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’d always pick you up, Peter. Even I knew that, and I didn’t know him well enough to know his car. I just knew from the way you’d run over,” MJ said, “I remember that one time you broke your phone and he bought you a new one, and you spent the next two days trying to return it. Or all the times someone would talk about him and your eyes would sparkle.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two loved each other Pete, you can’t deny it just because you didn’t say it. And all that love is just making you sad right now, but it’ll get better,” Ned said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that just made Peter sob harder. Because he wished he had told him. He wished he had made sure that every moment with Mr. Stark was special. He wished that was soon as Dr. Strange had brought them to the battle, and as soon as Mr. Stark had hugged him… he wished he had said “I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he did. He loved him the same way he loved Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He loved the time they spent together, or the times that Peter texted him incessantly, or the times when Mr. Stark was so scared for his safety that he got mad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tugged his friends into a tight hug and cried harder. He didn’t know how much time passed, but sooner or later his tears dried and he found himself rubbing his red eyes with the sleeves of Mr. Stark’s sweater. MJ and Ned were right. He loved Mr. Stark, and he missed him because of that love. But he had to figure out how to live on without him. And honestly, he’d always have a little piece of Mr. Stark, whether it was in the form of his MIT sweater, or in the form of photos, or memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So after MJ explained the situation to Mr. Harrington, the three of them skipped the rest of AcaDec, walked to Delmars, and then walked to Ned’s house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the way over Ned shared some stories of his sister, MJ shared stories of a cousin she lost, and Peter shared stories of Mr. Stark. They’d all lost someone, but found comfort in each other, and that was most important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter would never get his time with Mr. Stark back, and he didn’t think he’d ever fill the holes that were in his heart from all his loss. He was going to wake up some days missing the smell of Mr. Stark’s lab, he was going to miss the random texts he’d get, he was going to miss their movie nights and their dinners together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed it all, and he would never get it back. He could only sit and remember all the good, and all the bad times. His grief, though, would just be a reminder of his love, and he’d share that love and the memories with his loved ones. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because what is grief, if not love persevering? </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was 100% based on That line from Wandavision. </p><p>I hope you all enjoyed, and if you did leave a comment and kudos! </p><p>Follow me on <a href="https://odd-i-writes.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> and/or <a href="https://twitter.com/oddspideyy">Twitter</a> to hear me rant about the MCU or to request fics!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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